The Other Morgan (Parallel Series, Book 5) Read online

  I hadn’t weighed myself since before I’d gone with Rochelle Candee to her cabin. I was way overdue, definitely grounds to be sent to a Federally Assisted Thinning center. Then I shook my head, remembering that more than two months had passed since I’d left for Rochelle’s cabin. And during that time DM had been weighed multiple times. At least I assumed she had.

  Besides, not being weighed was the least of my transgressions. The worst was murdering an Enforcement Officer. But I didn’t do it. I wanted to scream the words, but I knew it was pointless.

  I finished dressing, then went back to Falcon’s room, locking the door behind me.

  “I’m glad we’re safe,” Amy said. “But I am so bored.”

  I smiled. “I know.” My gaze went to the TV on Falcon’s dresser. “He said we could watch TV. Maybe we can see if there’s any news about us.”

  Amy grimaced. “I’m not sure I want to know what they’re saying.”

  “Information is power, right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

  I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, but didn’t find any information about us. “Too bad Falcon took his laptop with him. I’m sure we could have found something online.”

  “We’ll check the news later.”

  To pass the time, we watched whatever looked interesting, and I thought about what I would say in the video we were going to film that afternoon. At noon we turned to the local news. Jessica Walker was anchoring the broadcast, and as I listened to her, I thought about the fact that she’d seemed sympathetic to me. Would that play into the news she shared?

  Five minutes in, she began talking about me. Riveted to the TV, I barely registered Amy putting her arm around my shoulder.

  “Many of you have been following the Enforcers’ search for Morgan Campbell, the sixteen-year-old girl who not only escaped the Enforcers’ custody, but is accused of murdering one of their Enforcement Officers.” She paused. “Today Secretary Hart—the Secretary of the Enforcement Department—held a news conference.”

  Jessica’s gaze shifted to her left, as if she was watching something, and then the screen filled with the image of a man speaking to a group of reporters.

  “To show how serious we are about capturing and incarcerating Morgan Campbell,” he said, “I am personally overseeing the hunt. To motivate our citizens to help in the search, we’re increasing our reward to fifty thousand dollars to anyone who provides information that leads to her capture.”

  He’s increasing the reward? To fifty thousand dollars? For me?

  I knew what that meant. Everyone would be on the lookout for me. Nowhere would be safe.

  My body felt clammy as my world seemed to close in on me.

  “I want to assure each of you,” Secretary Hart continued, “that we are doing everything within our power to get this dangerous criminal off of the streets.”

  As I listened to him outline all the ways in which I was dangerous and horrible, my mind began going numb and my thoughts began to wander. Something about him seems familiar. Maybe I saw him on the screen at the fake news conference on Saturday. Maybe he was even in one of the Enforcer cars that chased us.

  Forcing myself to pay attention, I listened to him answer questions from the media.

  “Do you have any leads on Morgan Campbell’s location?” one man asked.

  “We have a general idea of her whereabouts,” Secretary Hart said, “but I don’t want to be any more specific than that.”

  “They know where we are?” Amy asked, her voice edged with panic.

  “Of course not. If they knew, they would have already come and gotten us.” Right?

  “Once you find her,” another reporter asked, “what will happen?”

  I wanted to know the answer to this as well and I leaned forward.

  “She will be thoroughly interrogated, then assigned to a maximum security facility.” Hart’s expression was ice cold.

  Tremors of horror cascaded through me and my stomach lurched. I raced out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, and vomited until I had nothing left. I pushed myself up and went to the mirror, then stared at my pale reflection. Despair and hopelessness grew within me, and when it crested, I collapsed to the floor, shaking with sobs.

  They’re going to get me. They’re going to torture me. I’ll never see my family again. Ever. My life is over and there’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing.

  A soft knock sounded at the door, and then Amy’s voice wrapped around me. “Mor . . . I mean, Raven?” When I didn’t answer, she opened the unlocked door and sank to the floor beside me, then wrapped her arms around me. She didn’t say anything—what could she say—but having her next to me at least made me feel less alone.

  We sat that way for several minutes.

  “Come on,” she said as she took my hand and tugged. “It’s safer in the bedroom.”

  I nodded and let her lead me back to Falcon’s room where she locked the door behind us.

  “Is it over?” I asked, avoiding looking at the television. “The news conference?”

  She glanced at the TV. “Yes, but Jessica’s showing some of the video you made with her. Look.”

  Not eager to face my reality, nevertheless I turned to the TV and watched the clip of Jessica’s interview with me. When it ended, the camera focused back on her.

  “As you heard in Morgan’s own words,” she said, “she claims to know nothing about Enforcer Hansen’s death. All this young teenaged girl wants is to be able to go home and be with her family.” Jessica smiled sadly, then the screen changed to a commercial.

  “She seems to be on your side,” Amy said.

  I’d noticed the same thing, and it brought me comfort.

  “Have you figured out what you’re going to say on the video that you’re making this afternoon?”

  With monumental effort, I pushed aside thoughts of being captured by Secretary Hart and his Enforcers. “I have some ideas.”

  Amy smiled and her voice softened. “You can practice with me if you want.”

  When I looked at the sincerity on Amy’s face, love and appreciation swept over me. I drew her into an embrace and choked back tears. “I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would do if I was by myself.”

  Amy pulled away. “You would be fine by yourself.” Her eyes shone as she gazed at me. “You’re strong. You can do anything.”

  Maybe I should tell her the truth. I’m not the Morgan she thinks I am. I wasn’t with her in Camp Willowmoss. I’m not strong. Then I realized that the truth didn’t matter. Even if she believed me, telling her wouldn’t change a single thing. The Enforcers would still want to capture me, so why confuse her with the truth?

  I sighed. “Thanks.”

  When Falcon got home he wanted to get right to work on the video. “I want to get it done before Dylan gets home, so we should get started.”

  “Okay,” I said as he tested the recording function on his phone.

  “I’ll grab a chair from the dining room for you to sit on.” He smiled. “Be right back.” A moment later he set a chair in front of blank wall and motioned for me to sit. “Tell me when you’re ready to start.”

  I nodded as I sat in the chair. Although I’d recorded several videos with Nick, this one felt different—like this was my last chance to convince people to be on my side. Especially after seeing that man on TV—Secretary Hart. His fury and determination had been clear, and it frightened me.

  “I’m ready,” I said. Ready to get this over with.

  “Awesome. Here we go.” Falcon pressed a button on his phone then pointed it at me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Hello,” I began, my gaze steady on his phone. “My name is Morgan Campbell.” I gave the date, then launched into my plea that not only was I innocent of murder, but that I hadn’t done anything wrong. Next I talked about the F.A.T. centers and how the idea of helping people to be healthy wasn’t a bad thing, but the people in charge had become abusive and
the earlier purpose had been lost. I even recounted some of the terrible things I’d seen on DM’s video as if they’d happened to me. Then I switched gears, wanting to appeal to people who thought the government should step in and help people who were overweight.

  “Of course we should be healthy—that’s better for everyone. But we need to go about it in a way that will persuade people to be healthier, not force them to change their behaviors because they’re terrified of what their own government will do to them if they disagree.”

  I stared at Falcon’s phone. “Join with me and let the government know that we want to take back control of our lives. No longer do we want to be bullied and threatened and taken from our homes. Let them know that we want to be able to choose for ourselves how to deal with our health issues.

  “There has to be a better way to fix this. We’re smart. We can come up with a different solution. A solution that keeps families intact, that allows us to stop living in fear, that lets us have our lives back.” I smiled. “If you agree with me, then step forward and let your government know how you feel. If more of us speak up, we can change things.”

  I stared at the camera. “Now is the time to make that change.” I paused. “Thank you for listening.”

  “And cut,” Falcon said with a grin. “That was awesome, Raven.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Let’s put it on my laptop and see how it looks.”

  We gathered around his laptop and played it back.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think it’s great,” Amy said.

  Pouring out my heart and soul had exhausted me, and I didn’t want to do it again. “I think it’ll work.”

  He smiled. “Me too. I’m going to upload it.” He closed his laptop and turned to me. “I’ll be gone less than an hour.”

  While he was gone, Amy and I watched TV with the volume turned low, but when we heard the sound of someone entering the apartment half an hour later, we turned off the TV and hurried into the closet.

  “Do you think it’s Falcon?” Amy whispered beside me as we huddled in the corner.

  “Probably, but I don’t want to take a chance. It could be his brother.”

  “Or his dad.”

  I nodded. All we could do was wait and hope that he’d been able to successfully upload the video—and that it would persuade people to force a change in the government.

  A knock sounded on Falcon’s door.

  “It’s not Falcon,” Amy whispered, her voice shaky.

  “I know.”

  The bedroom door rattled.

  “Are you in there, Jacob?”

  Jacob? That must be Falcon’s real name. I turned to Amy to see if she’d noticed, but couldn’t make out her face in the dark.

  The voice at the door didn’t sound like Dylan’s, whose voice sounded so much like Falcon’s. But it did sound familiar. Is that his father again?

  “There you are,” the man said.

  “Dad.”

  I was sure that was Falcon. And he’d spoken loudly—most likely for our benefit so we’d have time to hide before he unlocked the door. A moment later I heard the bedroom door open and then I heard footsteps.

  “Why was your door locked?” his father asked.

  “I just like my privacy.” Falcon’s voice dripped with irritation. “Is that okay with you?”

  “I’m not here to fight.”

  Something about the man’s voice sent a tremor of fear through me, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I was afraid he’d discover us hiding in the closet, or due to some other reason. All I knew was that I had the overwhelming urge to flee.

  “Why are you here?” Falcon asked.

  “I just want to talk.” The man chuckled softly. “We haven’t talked in ages.”

  “Maybe that’s because I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Look, Jacob. I’m your father. You can’t change that.”

  “Yeah. And because of you I no longer have a mother.”

  “That’s not my fault and you know it.”

  Falcon laughed, but it sounded derisive. “You wouldn’t let me see her. Not even when she was dying.”

  “I didn’t know she was dying. You must know that.”

  “The only thing I know is that anytime I tried to see her, your thugs were there to stop me.”

  “Enforcers are not thugs, Jacob. They serve a critical role in our society. They ensure that our citizens follow the rules, and they keep the peace.”

  Enforcers? Why is he talking about Enforcers like that? Then all of a sudden I knew why the voice of Falcon’s father was familiar, why the very sound of it sent adrenaline surging through my veins. His father is Secretary Hart. I heard his voice on TV today talking about capturing me. He seemed familiar because Falcon looks so much like him.

  Terror clawed at my insides, but there was nothing I could do, not with the head of the Enforcers on the other side of the closet door.

  Why didn’t Falcon tell me? Panic blossomed within me. The head of the Enforcers is right here. If he discovers I’m just a few feet away from where he’s standing, my life will be over.

  “Keep the peace?” The pitch of Falcon’s voice rose as he spoke. “Is that what you call it when you assign one of them to follow around your teenaged son twenty-four/seven? Just to keep me from seeing my own mother? That’s just so wrong. Are you even supposed to use them that way?”

  “Hold on a minute. The men I hired were off-duty. I did nothing wrong.”

  “Maybe nothing illegal, but it was completely wrong.”

  “Your mother was a sympathizer, Jacob. You and I both know that.” Anger laced his voice. “I couldn’t allow her to influence you. I had to keep you away from her and her kind.”

  “Her kind?”

  “Yes, her kind. The kind of people who defy the government.”

  “You mean like resisters.”

  “You know that’s what I mean.”

  Falcon’s voice became taunting. “What would you say if I told you I’m a resister? Would you send me to a F.A.T. center so that I can be tortured and abused like Morgan Campbell?”

  I turned to Amy, my thoughts frantic. Does he remember we’re in his closet? What is he doing?

  Amy pressed her face to my shoulder and I felt her shaking.

  Secretary Hart’s voice softened, but it sounded menacing. “You’re not that stupid.”

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  “What are you saying? Are you involved with one of the resistance groups?”

  Falcon laughed. “Now who’s being stupid? Do you really think I’d tell you if I was? Come on, Dad.”

  They became absolutely silent, and I imagined them staring each other down.

  “I have stuff to do,” Falcon finally said.

  Secretary Hart sighed. “I’ll be in town for a while, so call me when you have some time.” He paused. “Okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  A moment later I heard the soft tread of footsteps, then the sound of Falcon’s door closing. The voices of Dylan and Secretary Hart floated toward me, but they faded as they left the apartment.

  The closet door swung inward and I blinked at the sudden brightness.

  “Raven? Are you in here? I uploaded the video.” Falcon asked from the doorway.

  I leapt up and stood in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me that your father is in charge of the Enforcers?”

  “It didn’t seem important—”

  I cut him off. “Not important? Are you kidding me?”

  He sighed. “Let me finish.”

  I placed my hands on my hips and glared at him.

  “He usually stays at his headquarters, far from here, okay? I didn’t know he was going to show up.”

  “I told you yesterday that he was here.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. “You could have told me then.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  My mouth hung open as I stared at him. “So you thought i
t would be better to take the chance on me being caught here?”

  “Look, Raven—”

  “Don’t call me that, okay? It’s not my name.”

  He frowned. “Have it your way, but do you really think it’s a good idea for your name to be said out loud?”

  “Is that why you go by Falcon? You don’t want anyone to know who you really are?” My eyebrows rose. “Jacob Hart.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to have anything to do with that name.”

  “Why not?”

  “How much of my . . . conversation . . . did you hear?”

  “All of it.”

  “Then you know that my father kept me from seeing my mother.” The crystal blue of his eyes turned to ice. “She was dying, Morgan. And he wouldn’t let me see her.”

  “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t he let you see her? I heard him talk about her being a sympathizer, but . . .”

  Falcon huffed out a breath of air and shook his head. “The short version is, my parents always disagreed about the way things are. You know, whether the government should be able to tell us what to do, what to eat, how much to weigh, stuff like that. My mom was against it, but my dad thought it was the right thing to do.” Falcon sat on his bed and I sat beside him. Amy sat on the floor and leaned against the dresser.

  “When I was eleven, Dad started working for the Enforcement Department. As you can imagine, the arguments my parents had became worse. When I was thirteen, he became the Secretary of the Enforcement Department.”

  Falcon stared at his lap. “That’s when everything fell apart. Dad took me and Dylan and left my mom. I didn’t want to go, but I was just a kid and I didn’t have a choice.” He looked up and met my gaze. “When I asked him if I could visit my mom, he told me no, and when I tried to sneak to her house and see her, I found out that he’d assigned Enforcers to constantly watch me to prevent me from going to see her.”

  He laughed, but there was an edge to the sound. “And they had to stop me many times.” He stood and went to the window, peering out the curtain before dropping it back into place, then he turned and faced me. “I didn’t even know she was sick, but late last year my dad pulled me aside and told me she’d died.” His jaw clenched. “He had to have known she was sick, but he never bothered to tell me.”